Ben Jonson - The Devil Is an Ass Act 4 Scene 4 lyrics

Fitz-dottrell, Mistris Fitz-dottrel, Pug. [To them. Your Servant Madam! Wit. How now? Friend? offended, That I have found your haunt here? Wittipol whispers with Manly. Man. No, but wondring At your strange fashion'd venture, hither. Wit. It is To shew you what they are you so pursue. Man. I think 'twill prove a Med'cine against marriage; To know their manners. Wit. Stay, and profit then. Mer. The Lady, Madam, whose Prince has brought her here, To be instructed. Wit. Please you sit with us, Lady. [He presents Mistris Fitz-dottrel. Mer. That's Lady-President. Fit. A goodly Woman! I cannot see the Ring, though. Mer. Sir, she has it. Tay. But, Madam, these are very feeble Reasons! Wit. So I urg'd Madam, that the new Complexion, Now to come forth, in name o' your Ladiship's fucus, Had no Ingredient — Tay. But I durst eat, I a**ure you. Wit. So do they in Spain. Tay. Sweet Madam be so liberal, To give us some o' your Spanish Fucusees! Wit. They are infinite, Madam. Tay. So I .hear, they have Water of Gourdes, of Radish, the white Beans, Flowers of Gla**, of Thistles, Rose-marine, Raw Honey, Mustard-seed, and Bread dough-bak'd, The Crums o' Bread, Goats-milk, and Whites of Eggs, Campheere, and Lilly-roots, the Fat of Swans, Marrow of Veal, white Pidgeons, and Pine-kernels, The Seeds of Nettles, Purse'line, and Hares-gall; Limons, Thin-skin'd — Eit. How, her Ladiship has studied All excellent things! Wit. But ordinary, Madam. No, the true Rarities, are th' Alvagada, And Argentata of Queen Isabella! Tay. I, what are their Ingredients, gentle Madam? Wit. Your Allum Scagliola, or Pol-dipedra; And Zuccarino; Turpentine of Abbezzo, Wash'd in nine Waters: Soda di levante, Or your Fern Ashes; Benjamin di gotta: Gra**o di serpe; Porcelletto marino; Oyls of Lentisco; Zucche Mugia; make The admirable Vernish for the Face, Gives the right Luster; but two drops rub'd on With a piece of Scarlet, makes a Lady of Sixty Look at Sixteen. But above all, the Water Of the white Hen, of the Lady Estifanias! Tay. O, I, that same, good Madam, I have heard of: How is it done? Wit. Madam, you take your Hen, Plume it, and skin it, cleanse it o' the Inwards; Then chop it, bones and all: add to four Ounces Of Carravicins, Pipitas, Sope of Cyprus, Make the Decoction, strein it. Then distil it, And keep it in your Galley-pot well glidder'd: Three drops preserves from Wrinkles, Warts, Spots, Moles, Blemish, or Sun-burnings, and keeps the Skin In decimo s**to, ever bright and smooth, As any Looking-gla**; and indeed, is call'd The Virgins Milk for the Face, Oglio reale; A Ceruse, neither cold or heat, will hurt; And mixt with Oyl of Myrrh, and the red Gilliflower, Call'd Cataputia; and Flowers of Rovistico, Makes the best Muta, or dye of the whole World. Tay. Dear Madam, will you let us be familiar? Wit. Your Ladiships Servant. Mer. How do you like her. Fit. Admirable! But, yet, I cannot see the Ring. Pug. Sir. Mer. I must [He is jealous about his Ring, and Merecraft delivers it. Deliver it, or mar all. This Fool's so jealous. Madam — Sir, wear this Ring, & pray you take knowledge, 'Twas sent you by his Wife, and give her thanks. Do not you dwindle, Sir, bear up. Pug. I thank you, Sir. Tay. But for the manner of Spain! Sweet Madam, let us Be bold, now we are in: Are all the Ladies There i' the Fashion? Wit. None but Grandees, Madam, O' the clasp'd Train, which may be worn at length too, Or thus, upon my Arm. Tay. And do they wear Cioppino's all? Wit. If they be drest in punto, Madam. Eit. Gilt as those are, Madam? Wit. Of Goldsmiths Work, Madam; And set with Diamonds; and their Spanish Pumps, Of perfum'd Leather. Tay. I should think it hard To go in 'em, Madam. Wit. At the first it is, Madam. Tay. Do you never fall in 'em? Wit. Never. Eit. I swear, I should Six times an hour. Wit. But you have Men at hand still, To help you, if you fall? Eit. Only one, Madam, The Guardo-duenna's, such a little old Man As this. Eit. Alas! he can do nothing, this! Wit. I'll tell you, Madam, I saw in the Court of Spain once A Lady fall i' the King's sight, along; And there she lay, flat spread, as an Umbrella, Her Hoop here crack'd; no Man durst reach a Hand To help her, till the Guarda-duenna's came, Who is the Person onl' allow'd to touch A Lady there, and he but by this Finger. Eit. Ha' they no Servants, Madam, there, nor Friends? Wit. An Escudero, or so, Madam, that waits Upon 'em in another Coach, at distance; And when they walk or dance, holds by a Handkercher, Never presumes to touch 'em. Eit. This's scurvy, And a forc'd Gravity! I do not like it. I like our own much better. Tay. 'Tis more French, And Courtly, ours. Eit. And tastes more Liberty. We may have our dozen of Visitors at once Make love t' us. Tay. And before our Husbands. Eit. Husband? As I am honest, Tayl-bush, I do think, In no body should love me, but my poor Husband, I should e'en hang my self. Tay. Fortune forbid, Wench, So fair a Neck should have so foul a Neck-lace. Eit. 'Tis true, as I am handsom? Wit. I receiv'd, Lady, A Token from you, which I would not be Rude to refuse, being your first Remembrance. (Fit. O, I am satisfied now! Mer. Do you see it, Sir?) Wit. But since you come to know me nearer, Lady, I'll begg the Honour you will wear it for me, [Wittipol gives it Mrs. Fitz-dottrel. It must be so. Mrs. Fit. Sure I have heard this Tongue. [Mere-craft murmurs. Mer. What do you mean, Sir? Wit. Would you ha' me mercenary? We'll recompence it anon, in somewhat else. [He is satisfied, now he sees it. Fit. I do not love to be gull'd, though in a Toy. Wife, do you hear? yo' are come into the School, Wife, Where you may learn, I do perceive it, any thing! How to be fine, or fair, or great, or proud, Or what you will, indeed, Wife; here 'tis taught: And I am glad on't, that you may not say, Another day, when Honours come upon you, You wanted Means. I ha' done my parts; been, To day, at Fifty pound charge; first, for a Ring, [He upbraids her with his Bill of Costs. To get you entred; then left my new Play, To wait upon you here, to see't confirm'd, That I may say, both to mine own Eyes and Ears, Senses, you are my Witness, she' hath enjoy'd All Helps that could be had for Love or Money — Mrs. Fit. To make a Fool of her. Fit. Wife, that's your Malice, The wickedness o' your Nature, to interpret Your Husband's Kindness thus: but I'll not leave Still to do good, for your deprav'd Affections: Intend it; bend this stubborn Will; be Great. Tay. Good Madam, whom do they use in Messages? Wit. They commonly use their Slaves, Madam. Tay. And does your Ladiship Think that so good, Madam? Wit. No indeed, Madam; I Therein prefer the Fashion of England far, Of your young delicate Page, or discreet Usher. Fit. And I go with your Ladiship in opinion, Directly for your Gentleman-Usher; There's not a finer Officer goes on Ground. Wit. If he be made and broken to his Place once. Fit. Nay, so I presuppose him. Wit. And they are fitter Managers too, Sir; but I would have 'em call'd Our Escudero's. Fit. Good. Wit. Say I should send To your Ladiship, who (I presume) has gather'd All the dear Secrets, to know how to make Pastillo's of the Dutchess of Braganza, Coquetta's, Almoiavana's, Mantecada's, Alcorea's, Mustaccioli; or say it were The Peladore of Issabella, or Balls Against the Itch, or Aqua Nanfa, or Oil Of Jessamine for Gloves, of the Marquess Muja; Or for the Head and Hair; why, these are Offices Fit. Fit for a Gentleman, not a Slave. They only Might ask for your Piveti, Spanish Cole, To burn, and sweeten a Room: but the Arcana Of Ladies Cabinets — Fit. Should be elsewhere trusted. Yo' are much about the truth. Sweet honoured Ladies, [He enters himself with the Ladies. Let me fall in wi' you. I ha' my Female Wit, As well as my Male. And I do know what suits A Lady of Spirit, or a Woman of Fashion! Wit. And you would have your Wife such? Fit. Yes, Madam, airy, Light; not to plain dishonesty, I mean: But somewhat o' this side. Wit. I take you, Sir. H' has reason, Ladies. I'll not give this Rush For any Lady that cannot be honest Within a Thred. Tay. Yes, Madam, and yet venture As far for th' other, in her Fame — Wit. As can be; Coach it to Pimlico, dance the Saraband, Hear and talk Bawdy, laugh as loud as a Larum, Squeak, spring, do any thing. Eit. In young Company, Madam. Tay. Or afore Gallants. If they be brave, or Lords, A Woman is ingag'd. Fit. I say so, Ladies, It is Civility to deny us nothing. Pug. You talk of a University! why, Hell is [The Devil admires him. A Grammar-school to this! Eit. But then She must not lose a Look on Stuffs or Cloth, Madam. Tay. Nor no course Fellow. Wit. She must be guided, Madam, By the Clothes he wears, and Company he is in, Whom to salute, how far — Fit. I ha' told her this; And how that Bawdry too, upo' the point, Is (in it self) as civil a Discours —— Wit. As any other Affair of Flesh whatever. Fit. But she will ne'er be capable, she is not So much as coming, Madam; I know not how She loses all her Opportunities, [He shews his Pug. With hoping to be forc'd. I have entertain'd A Gentleman, a younger Brother, here, Whom I would fain breed up her Escudero, Against some Expectations that I have, And she'll not countenance him. Wit. What's his Name? Fit. Devil, o' Darby-shire. Eit. Bless us from him! Tay. Devil! Call him De-vile, sweet Madam. Mrs. Fit. What you please, Ladies. Tay. Devile's a prettier name! Eit. And sounds, me thinks, As it came in with the Conqueror — Man. Over smocks! What things they are? That Nature should be at leasure Ever to make 'em! My Wooing is at an end. [Manly goes out with indignation. Wit. What can he do? Eit. Let's hear him. Tay. Can he manage? Fit. Please you to try him, Ladies. Stand forth, Devil. Pug. Was all this but the Preface to my Torment? Fit. Come, let their Ladiships see your Honours. Eit. O, He makes a wicked Leg. Tay. As ever I saw! Wit. Fit for a Devil. Tay. Good Madam, call him De-vile. Wit. De-vile, what Property is there most required I' your conceit now, in the Escudero? [They begin their Catechism. Fit. Why do you not speak? Pug. A setled discreet Pace, Madam. Wit. I think, a barren Head, Sir, Mountain-like, To be expos'd to the cruelty of Weathers —— Fit. I, for his Valley is beneath the Waste, Madam, And to be fruitful there, it is sufficient. Dulness upon you! Could not you hit this? [He strikes him. Pug. Good Sir ——— Wit. He then had had no barren Head. You daw him too much, in troth, Sir. Fit. I must walk With the French Stick, like an old Vierger, for you. Pug. O Chief, call me to Hell again, and free me. [The Devil prays. Fit. Do you murmur now? Pug. Not I, Sir. VVit. What do you take, Mr. De-vile, the height of your Employment, In the true perfect Escudero? Fit. When? What do you answer? Pug. To be able, Madam, First to enquire, then report the working Of any Ladies Physick, in sweet Phrase. VVit. Yes, that's an Act of elegance, and importance. But what above? Fit. O, that I had a Goad for him. Pug. To find out a good Corn-cutter. Tay. Out on him! Eit. Most barbarous! Fit. Why did you do this now? Of purpose to discredit me, you damn'd Devil? Pug. Sure, if I be not yet, I shall be. All My Days in Hell were Holydays, to this! Tay. 'Tis Labour lost, Madam. Eit. H'is a dull Fellow, Of no Capacity! Tay. Of no Discourse! O, if my Ambler had been here! Eit. I, Madam, You talk of a Man, where is there such another? VVit. Mr. De-vile, put case one of my Ladies here Had a fine Brach, and would employ you forth To treat 'bout a convenient Match for her, What would you observe? Pug. The Colour, and the Size, Madam. VVit. And nothing else? Fit. The Moon, you Calf, the Moon! VVit. I, and the Sign. Tay. Yes, and Receits for Proneness. VVit. Then when the Puppies came, what would you do? Pug. Get their Nativities cast! VVit. This's well. What more? Pug. Consult the Almanack-man which would be least, Which cleanliest. VVit. And which silent'st? This's well, Madam: And while she were with Puppy? Pug. VValk her out, And air her every Morning. VVit. Very good! And be industrious to k** her Fleas! Pug. Yes. VVit. He will make a pretty Proficient. Pug. VVho, Coming from Hell, could look for such Catechising? The Devil is an Ass, I do acknowledge it. Fit. The Top of VVoman! all her Sex in abstract! [Fitz-dottrel admires Wittipol. I love her, to each Syllable falls from her. Tay. Good Madam, give me leave to go aside with him. And try him a little! VVit. Do, and I'll withdraw, Madam, VVith this fair Lady, read to her the while. Tay. Come, Sir. Pug. Dear Chief, relieve me, or I perish. [The Devil prays again. Wit. Lady, We'll follow. You are not jealous, Sir? Fit. O, Madam! you shall see. Stay, Wife, behold, I give her up here absolutely to you; She is your own; do with her what you will: [He gives his Wife to him, taking him to be a Lady. Melt, cast, and form her as you shall think good: Set any Stamp on: I'll receive her from you As a new thing, by your own Standard. VVit. Well, Sir!